Plantorsomething

Again late, but this time it’s cuz I’m at school again, so things might be slowing down.

             August didn’t understand. Accidents happen all the time; he didn’t think it was a big deal. 

             He bit his lip and stared down at his breakfast, an egg and a half -since he dropped half on the floor- that were burnt and much too oily. He didn’t glance across from him, at the seat that's been empty for a month now. He didn’t reread the note sitting on the table telling him to go to an Eluna temple if he needed anything, and he didn’t search the streets below through the open window.

             But you do understand, don’t you? The first rule of blacksmithing is to do everything mom says, without question. It was a simple, easy rule. You could get hurt easily in blacksmithing, so she had to make sure you followed everything she said. 

             His fists clenched the fabric of his pants. He still remembered the day, years ago, when he begged mom to let him help her. He said he would do anything.

             But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You always wanted to do a little more, experiment a bit, or try a technique you saw mom doing.

             He still remembered the look on her face when he fessed up. He’d been spacing out all day, trying to put off telling her, but the metaphysical exhaustion from going too far in soul work was just too much. He’d collapsed soon after, relieved that he didn’t have to hide it anymore. A part of him even thought she’d be there to comfort him after he woke up, angry but worried and fussing over him with medicine or his favorite foods to make him feel better.

             You never thought about the consequences, did you? Not even once.

             A drop fell from August’s nose onto the shitty eggs. He stubbornly shoved a bite in his mouth, chewing rapidly. There was too much work to be done to freak out. He just had to keep going. He just had to- had to stop being such a child. He was already a legal adult, and he didn’t need to be taken care of!

             It’s all your fault anyways. Man up, you spoiled brat.

             His chest clenched. He sucked in a shuddering breath as a few more droplets fell from his cheeks. He tried to wipe them off but the stupid things just kept coming over and over. August felt cracks running down his walls, a well of feelings rising up inside him, pushing up against the surface with an unbearable pressure until he slammed a fist on the table. 

             “Fucking shut up already.” He hissed, grabbing his head. I get it okay! It’s my fault, but it doesn’t matter now, because it’s already done, so just let me fucking work! He shouted in his head, trying to drown out the stupid voice.

            He shoved the eggs down his throat and marched down to the first floor. If he wanted to keep going, he couldn’t keep letting these feelings control him. August had a stable enough supply and emergency funds to support another, and it was time he stopped putting off the project that ruined his life, he reasoned.

            After putting up the no-customer sign and a variety of wards, he lit up the forge. He didn’t give himself time to think about it, chiseling away at the block of glowing metal for hours on end. All of his rage, frustration, and grief; he hammered it all into the Living Blade, as if he could tear all the feelings out of his soul. Something inside him knew that he could finish this faster, chip away at the impurities and reshape the metal more with each strike, but something was holding him back. He wanted it to last longer. He didn’t want to stop feeling the pain of draining his soul. He didn’t want to stop moving because he knew the second he did, he would break. So he kept going, and going, and going. Eventually, something had to give, and if that thing was himself, then so be it.

             …

             August kept his head low. Wearing a plain coat and hood usually made him look extra shady as an unfortunate side effect, but today the rain poured down like cold knives. Runes kept some of his heat to himself, but there was only so much that he could handle, and he needed to dedicate most of it to the glamour. 

             “Well hello there little lady. What kind of demon might you be?”

             His heart froze. For a second he pondered bolting or stabbing the bastard, but he couldn’t smell any hostile intent, be it sexual or violent. He did have greed, but it was hard to tell if maliciousness was hiding among the vast amounts of it.

             I seriously need to get that better soul shielding soon.

             “A customer.” He answered eventually.

             “Ah, my favorite kind! What could I, a humble mortal, get for your unholiness? I won’t be making no deals though.”

              Her stomach growled at the thought, but it was thankfully masked by the storm. “Permanent transmutation. Breast reduction.”

              “Reduction? Well that’s a rare one, but I can certainly see why you might be interested.” He leered at her, but her senses could tell it was a power play rather than actual desire.

              “It’s not rare. If you don’t sell it, I’ll just head to the next guy.” She deadpanned.

              “Geez, won’t get anyone with that attitude. Take a looksie here.” The potion he pulled out was dyed artificially pink. She rolled her eyes and said “A real one. Don’t fuck with me.”

              He didn’t miss a beat, putting the potion away and pulling out a faintly glowing bottle with sparkling yellow flakes. She swished it before declaring, “Faulty and poisonous. I’m going.” She walked away, and he called “Alright, fine! Picky bitch.”

              This time he pulled out a potion that looked much the same as the last, only the flakes were lazily drifting around on their own when she looked at it closely. Finally, they argued about the price, lowering it down to something only twice as much as the usual price before she paid up and left the tent with a slightly fuller stomach. Letting the man still scam her sucked, but the greed and thrill from him was enough to satiate her for a good while.

              Mud squished under her boots as she made her way back home in the somewhat wealthier district.

              She practically kicked the door open as he rushed inside, throwing her rain cloak on the stand and shoving the door shut behind her. The roar of the rain faded to the background as she slumped down against it, breathing heavily. August looked down, staring at the rise and fall of her voluminous chest with shameful satisfaction. Every part of her being wanted her- him to lean in and accept this new body. Maybe run away to another city, build a new identity with his emergency funds. His grip tightened on the bottle, and he quickly popped out the stopper and chugged the entire thing down. He felt the breasts shrinking, the skin tightening and the extra mass transformed into thick plumes of white smoke.

            It would be so easy to just give up, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. As long as there was life left in August’s new body, he vowed he would beat back the demonic corruption down to his final breath. 

           A hand reached up to grasp his chest, feeling a flat surface in its place. A jagged spear pierced his heart at the loss, and he couldn’t help but let out an agonized whine. Even to this day he still couldn’t comprehend the feelings it brought him; all he knew was that it hurt. Whatever it was, it was undoubtedly a good sign. It meant he was still fighting it. 

           Honestly, he could handle the pain, but he just wished it wasnt so damn confusing with its mixed signals. For example, why did going against his demonic corruption make him feel even more disgusting? 

          …

          It was done. He kept searching and searching, listing down options that were more myth than fact or experimental herbs, but it was about time he admitted it. He was done. No more potions or weird rituals were left. His money was stable even without mom’s savings. He’d also vowed to himself that there would be no more setbacks, or “lapses in judgment” where he’d undo all his progress and just stay inside for a while, exploring the forbidden pleasures of his body like scratching a big bite. That just made everything feel several times worse in the end, and he’d learned by now. 

          …So why did he still feel so empty inside. 

         August could have blamed it on hunger, it definitely felt similar now that it wasn’t a physical thing, but August had just recently eaten lunch with a homeless man to satisfy his desire for company and an ear to rant to. So it wasn’t that. It was just that now he was here, in his big house with enough consistent money to enjoy a life of comfort. He couldn’t make a lot of close friends or lovers, it was too risky with the demon thing, but he didn’t really want to die, either, especially after putting so much effort into staying alive.

         He supposed he enjoyed rune formula, and soul craft was always a fun time, so his life wouldn’t be overly boring. But he just couldn’t see the point of it all now. Everything that used to be fun, just simply made him feel nothing at all these days. Not even the letters from Asra could get him excited anymore. Everything just felt so trivial, so meaningless, that it made doing anything at all feel like an exhausting chore. His place was a mess, and he’d been neglecting basic hygine for a while now.

           Closing his eyes, he desperately braved the murky waters of the past in search of an answer.

          What did young me want to be when he grew up? What did he imagine his life would be like?

          Marrying a loving wife, staying home, and raising kids, with a side of changing the world for the better if he could. Well, August wanted to marry Asra more specifically. Around the time when mom disappeared and Asra moved to train for knighthood in the capital, those daydreams had intensified, but after the incident, she had a lot of other things on her mind. Now that he could sit down and actually think for once with some semblance of stability, the thought of kids was sparking another memory of a conversation with his mother. It was when he’d asked her if soulsmithing was the same process to make a Living Blade.          

          “If enchanted blades are like forging with your smelted diary, the Living Blades are like giving birth. You have to take responsibility as if they were your own flesh and blood, because the bond between you and them runs even deeper than that.”

          August hmm’d to the ceiling above his bed, thinking. It sounded like a fuck ton of work. If he went through with it, he would have to improve his skills, work way more, build up a ton of savings, and learn how to raise kids. Not to mention cleaning up the house and taking care of himself to set an example for them. He’d pretty much be spending every waking moment trying to give them the best life they could have. 

          The corner of his mouth twitched upward. Well I better get started sooner than later in that case